Spike seems to get her "Buffy birthday BAD" pronouncements. So she's stunned to find the restaurant full of--well, everybody. Willow and Kennedy from Brazil, Giles from London, Xander from South Africa, Dawn from two doors down. Even Oz from Something-zania. Or maybe Something-vakia.
No monsters, no apocalypses. Nice.
And then she bends to blow out her candles, and her pencil skirt splits.
The pencil skirt that, expecting a candlelit dinner with just Spike, she wore commando.
There's a long silence. I just may survive this, she thinks. If nobody...says...ANYTHING.
"Huh," Oz says. "Sudden urge to wolf out."